


Assorted Auth Unity and Auth family shit

by TooDumbToDie



Category: The Centricide (Webseries)
Genre: Christmas!!!!, Degradation, Extremely wholesome and loving shit, Femboy Nazi, M/M, Naz's parents actually love him, Nazi is repressed, Underage Drinking, Wholesome family stuff, but also porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:14:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 17,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24507490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooDumbToDie/pseuds/TooDumbToDie
Summary: What the title says it is.Naz, Nazi and Commie live together. Stuff happens. Life happens.Some stuff: Chapter 10 is the Christmas stuff.And the only NSFW shit is in Chapter five + seven.
Relationships: Communism/White Identitarian | Nazi (Centricide), authleft/authright, authunity
Comments: 76
Kudos: 138





	1. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nazi has zero brain cells. Tankie is chill. And I project my current emotions onto Naz. Very epic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this is an Auth fic: CWs for antisemitism, racism, sexism for the whole fic.
> 
> I will CW warn for chapters which contain homophobia, transphobia and other shit like that. Also slurs.  
> The F slur exists in this chapter.
> 
> Vati means 'dad' in German. This fic is set after the most recent centricide episode (unless specified otherwise) so I'm just gonna say that I'll ignore Nazi finding out he's Jewish until it's convenient for me uwu.  
> Also I'm pretending that them being a dick to Naz after Horseshoe centrist was defeated never happened.
> 
> Also btw there's no overarching plot or anything. It's just life shit

**Nazi  
** I wake up in a panic. It rushes through my veins and I can feel my body shaking. I also feel his heavy arm draped across my chest. The war still plagues me. They plague us both.  
I feel him stir, the mattress shifting slightly.  
“Go back to sleep Nazi,” he mumbles into my hair.  
I settle back in and he pulls me closer, half asleep.

But no matter how much I try and slow my breathing, I can still feel every pulse of my heart. I try all the exercises I learnt but none of them work. But after a couple of hours of tossing and turning around in his arms, sleep drags me under. But it’s a horrible restless sleep.

I wake up by myself but that’s normal on weekdays. Vanguard meetings, union meetings and morning jogs are the reason why. I drag myself out of bed and pull on my military uniform. I look into the mirror and I look like a bombshell. I take two steps away from it and I look a bit better and the bags under my eyes disappear slightly.  
  


I walk through the dining room, Naz is shovelling cereal into his mouth at an alarming speed. I allow myself a small smile.  
“Hey vati.”  
“Guten morgen.“

I grab two buns. I had to learn to make my own bread since I hate American bread. It’s bland, flavourless and an abandons hundreds of years of bread-making tradition.  
I sit down opposite to Naz and slice them open. I heavily butter them, that’s how they were meant to be eaten.  
  
As I eat, I run through my mental list of things I have to do today. Well, no one is forcing me to do them. I have to do the laundry, some cleaning like in the bathroom and also, I might bake something. Muffins. Yes, muffins for Naz.

  
  
I watch him leave for school, he waves at me and grins madly like he’s the devil himself. I allow myself another small smile and wave back.

  
Our living arrangement started off as a holocaust joke. Ironic at first and then slowly becomes serious until you’re doing it with full sincerity. Pretend to be together for the sake of the kid? Pretend to tolerate each other for the sake of the kid? Actually live together for the sake of the kid?  
Of course, it was my idea. I was the one who brought it up after we summoned Naz and defeated the horseshoe centrist. Commie happily complied and Naz didn’t really have much of a choice in the matter, but I don’t think he minded.

I start collecting the laundry. Commie initially tried to split the chores up equally, but you can’t raise a kid like that, so I sabotaged it until he gave up. A family unit is meant to be the man, the wife and the kids. And since me and Commie are both men, someone has to take the role of the wife so at least Naz comes out of this as less fucked up as possible. Commie refuses to take that role so I have to.  
I am just trying to secure a future for my half-Aryan child.

  
I tell myself it’s okay because I’m doing it for my son but that’s not a complete truth. Something deep inside me enjoys the degenerate carnal pleasures that the communist brings with him. Something deep inside me likes being manhandled and fucked like a rag doll and I feel deeply ashamed of myself for it. I tried my best to repress it but with the communist constantly rubbing it into my face, it never worked. Well, he said he wasn’t rubbing it into my face. He said he didn’t even really mention it. But it started off as hate-fucking since we both despised each other but also really liked each other. And then it became normal fucking and then fucking with strings attached. And now there's actual feelings involved and sometimes I hate myself for it. I mean there was always feelings involved but they weren't acted on.

I absentmindedly pour the laundry detergent into the sliding drawer. Some of the liquid misses the mark and I snap out of my thoughts. I actually get the laundry done.

  
I don’t particularly feel like cleaning, my bones and muscles are too tired, so I head to the kitchen. I rummage through the pantry and the cupboards and manage to assemble everything I need. But before I start baking, I turn on some Wagner. The notes pour out of the CD player and permeate every nook and cranny of the old Centricide house.

I manage to whip but the muffin mix and put the muffins into the oven. But I start to tire. I lean against the counter and close my eyes for a second. And god those few seconds feel so good. I glance over at the sofa, usually, I have the discipline to hold myself back, but it looks so welcoming. Plus, if I set an alarm, I should be alright.

**Commie  
**I kick off my heavy boots, my thoughts of Marx disrupted by the smell of something burning.

I march into the kitchen and open the oven door. Inside peer out various blackened muffins. I grab a tea towel and quickly remove them and place them on the countertop.

On the couch I see him curled up and fast asleep. I walk up to him but let him sleep. He needs it but it doesn’t matter anyway. He stirs.  
"Commie?” his lashes flutter as his eyelids open, heavy from sleep.  
“Vhat happened here?”  
“Wait what?” he grumbles, half asleep.  
“Your muffins.” and I smile down at him.

“Oh shit.” and he’s suddenly wide awake.  
“Don’t vorry about it, comrade.”  
“I tried to make muffins for Naz and now they’re all burnt. Fuck.”  
“Just go back to sleep comrade. Don’t vorry about it.”

  
“Leave me alone you filthy communist,” he grumbles. So, I turn around and walk to the CD player and turn the music off. I don’t know how he managed to sleep through it.  
“I didn’t mean it. Come back,” he whines and sits up on the sofa. His hat is slightly askew and his uniform very crinkled.

I sit down next to him and I watch him retreat into his thoughts for a couple of seconds. And then he finally speaks.  
“Sometimes I worry that Naz is influenced by the Jewish agenda by going to public school. And then he will in turn influenced by the gay and the trans agenda.”  
“Comrade you literally are gay.”  
“I am not gay. Homosexuality is degenerate and I am not a degenerate.”  
“If you are not gay then why in the bedr-”  
“NO NO NO I AM NOT GAY,” he yells over me, not wanting to hear what I have to say. But I understand, he’s scared.  
“Comrade just admit you are a faggot. No one will purge you for it. I don’t care if you’re gay. No one else cares if you are gay.”  
“If anyone here is the faggot, it’s you. I’m not a faggot, I’m just an autogynephilic straight male attracted to an idealised female version of myself. I am only meta-attracted to you because you make me feel closer to that idealised female version of myself. Therefore, it is NOT GAY.” and he sneers at me but I quickly a long time ago, that with me, he was always more bark than bite.  
“Comrade you need to stop visiting Incel forums. You are not even an incel” he just rolls his eyes at me.

I wrap my arm around him. He leans into my touch and places his head on my shoulder. He sighs. I rub his back.  
“Ve both know you are gay and that is okay,” I say softly, in hopes to maybe get him to calm down or maybe accept reality. But it backfires.  
“Piss off faggot.” he untangles himself and stomps off.

**Nazi  
** I fucking hate that he’s right. I fucking hate that he’s right. I fucking hate it so fucking much. The communist shouldn’t be fucking right about this.  
Fuck this. I’m making a second batch of muffins. God, I fucking hate everything.

He drifts into the kitchen when I’m filling the Backform or whatever the English word is for it with the muffin mix. Baking form? Who fucking cares? I don’t fucking care.  
He leans onto the counter.

“Vhat are you making now, comrade?”  
“Fuck off. I’m not gay.”  
“I vasn't going to call you gay. I vas just curious.”  
“I am making more chocolate chip muffins, but we ran out of chocolate chips and I burnt the batch with the chocolate chips so now I’m using dried raspberries.”  
“You know you don’t have to do the housewife thing to make Naz love you. He already loves you plus he is 15.”  
“A child needs a strong family unit and sometimes I have to sacrifice my fucking dignity for that,” I grumble at him pointedly. He doesn’t fucking get it does he?

“Also, comrade, I am sorry for the whole argument. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”  
“It’s okay.” I sneer at him passive-aggressively.  
“You were fucking right Commie even though I don’t want to admit it.” I don’t know if that was a genuine admission or sarcasm but who cares.

  
I shove the muffins into the oven and slam the door shut.  
“Vas that sarcasm?”  
“I don’t fucking know. I just don’t want to be fucking gay.”

I hear him behind me first and then I feel his arms wrap around me. I again lean into him. He’s warm, soft and gentle.  
I feel tears start to well up. I try and wipe them away so that he can’t see them. Weakness is degenerate and will not be tolerated.  
But they quickly become too much and they’re coming faster then I can wipe them away. Choked sobs well up from deep inside of me. I turn around and press my face into his chest.

He rubs my back.  
“I am sorry comrade. I should have given it a rest.” his voice is thick with remorse.  
He lifts my chin up so he can kiss me, and he does. It’s a wet tender kiss and it just makes me cry even more. I hate myself for liking his kisses and his love. It’s degenerate but I want more. And then I reciprocate it and that makes me hate myself even more.  
“Please just fucking murder me or something.” I plead. I don’t understand the thoughts whirling through my head at Mach 3 speed. But it hurts and I don’t actually want to die. I’m just so fucking ashamed of myself.  
“Нет. Comrade, you are insane. But maybe I can read you some theory and you might feel better. I vill even read Mein Kampf if I have to.”  
  


We settle down on the sofa. I take my cap off and place my head in his lap. I continue to cry as he reads out loud and as his right-hand threads through my blond hair. But it leaves often so he can turn the page, but it always returns.  
I manage to cry myself out, but he still continues to read and I still continue to lay there.

**Nazbol  
**The backpack bites into my shoulders. It might as well be filled with bricks. My legs and back ache.  
The whole day it’s been building up. My list of things I have to work on, the things I have to do and the horrible fucking geography test today which I definitely failed. Maybe Poland is just a pipe dream like everyone tells me.

I definitely didn’t pass it. I clamber onto the bus, my backpack on my lap. I’m out of data and I forgot my headphones so my mind just drifts. I feel the vibrations of the road in the side of my face but I just don’t care. I don’t have the energy to care.

It’s the never-ending stream of assignments. The never-ending stream of work I have to do. I never great breaks. I just want to sleep in without assignments looming over me, living rent-free in my mind. It’s all too much.  
I can feel pinpricks of tears in the corner of my eye. And I’m grateful that no one can see them with my face mushed against the glass. I refuse to let anyone see me upset.

I am just so tired. I’m just so fucking tired. I am so fucking tired and I don’t think I can handle it anymore.

I then trudge the 100m home from the bus stop. When I walk in, I throw my back on the ground. I might have something fragile in there but who gives a shit. Vati spots me.  
“Hey Naz.” and he smiles at me.  
“Please just leave me alone.”  
“Weakness is a sign of moral degradation but are you alright Naz?” and he walks closer to me. I bristle.  
“Please just leave me alone. Please?”

He ignores what I said and wraps me into a hug. He smells like smoke. I’m too tired to squirm out. So, I just surrender and then the tears come back. I weep into his uniform.  
It leaves a damp spot, but he doesn’t say anything.

I squirm out and wipe my face with the back of my sleeve.  
“Naz do you want some muffins?”  
“Да.”  
“Okay but remember to speak German too. Make your ancestors proud Schatz.” and he releases me.  
“Yeah yeah, vati. Just because I’m a commie doesn’t mean I’m proud of the white race and my heritage.”

Back into my room, I bite into one of the muffins. They’re actually pretty good and soft. Plus I love raspberries. I smile but that just makes me cry even more.  
Usually, I’d play Call of Duty but I don’t have the energy to yell slurs at minorities, so I just throw myself onto my bed. I don’t have the energy to care that I’m still in my heavy winter jacket or my ushanka.

I fall into sleep’s warm embrace. Soft and comfy on top of the duvet.

**Commie  
** “Commie can I quickly ask you something?” he asks, perched on the edge of the bed.  
“Да?” and I pull up my pyjama pants.  
“If I were gay, would that make me like Homonationalist? I don’t want people to think of me as an infuriatingly annoying, horny faggot.”  
“Vell you aren’t annoying,” I say bluntly. But I regret my bad attempt at humour the moment I see his face. The corner of his mouth quirks down like he's about to burst into tears.

I sit down next to him and put my arm around him.  
“Homonash is annoying petty-bourgeois idiot who only cares about idpol vhich only exists to pit the vorking class against each other. You have done shit even though it was pretty bad. You killed 6 million Jews, started a war that killed 85 million people and you have a kid who you care a lot about. Everyone is scared of you. You are a force to be reckoned with and together ve are unstoppable. You and me.”  
“The holocaust didn’t happen but thank you Commie.” and he gives me a slight smile.

I crawl into bed and watch him take his sleep meds. He downs them with a glass of water on his nightstand and wipes his mouth. And then he climbs into bed next to me.  
“I’m sorry I was a lot to handle today. I know weakness is degenerate, I’ll try harder to be less of a beta-cuck tomorrow.”  
“There is nothing vrong with being weak. It is all anti-worker rhetoric from the CIA but it’s okay Nazi.” I wrap my arm around his frame and pull him closer to me. He presses his face into my chest.  
“Love me please.” his voice is slightly whiney.  
“I already love you comrade.” and I pat his back.  
“Not what I meant but I love you too even though it’s degenerate. But then women and their whoring behaviour caused the fall of Rome so it makes sense to engage in degeneracy. My mother was a fucking whore. She was a single mother and I despise her for it and what she did for me. A total and utter disregard for family values and I hate her so fucking much.”

  
I inch over to turn the light off. His sexist rambling stops and he grumbles in complaint. I snuggle back into him.  
“Vhat vere you asking again comrade?”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this is alright + coherent since I can't do emotions atm. Plus I am burnt out from life.
> 
> If you're in America, do praxis and stay safe  
> Happy pride
> 
> Also I think I humanised a nazi so bash the fash  
> Plus I'll give Naz his own chapter


	2. Vibing with friends - Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wholesome happy chapter where Naz has two different sleepovers with his best friends. Shit happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone needs it:  
> Ba’athism is nazbol but instead of white nationalism, it’s Arab nationalism. Correct me if I'm wrong. Far left in order to create a unified arab state. Also anti zionist  
> Strasserism is national socialism but actually socialist. So instead of focusing on ethnic cleansing, it's focusing on getting rid of capitalism which is controlled by the jews. Made him trans so it's trans-strasserism. Trans dude time.
> 
> I want Naz to be happy also his friends are both minorities. Ironic.

**Vibing with friends – Part One** **  
**We steal down the dimly lit road together. I have an unopened bottle of vodka I stole from dad tucked under my winter coat and Trans-Strasserism has two beer bottles, one in each hand.  
And since I’m staying the night at his place, my dads will never know. Unless someone finds the vodka missing that is.

It rained recently so the air is still thick with water droplets. They sit on the leaves of trees like little diamonds and lower visibility even more. It’s completely quiet apart from the sound of distant cars and the train crossing ringing.  
Combined with the fresh air, it feels like when you get a glass of water and you drink it all in one go and you feel so refreshed that it’s like you’ve passed into the spirit realm. Life is good and without the constant distractions, I can feel my stress ebb.  
Life is good.

We get to the playground at the bottom of his road. It has a sad swing set and a jungle gym sitting in an island of woodchips. It’s surrounded by a moat of grass.  
My heavy boots sink into that grass, swollen with water from the rain.  
  
The swing set is the only remotely dry place to sit so that’s where we open the bottle of vodka. We sit in silence and pass the bottle in-between the two of us, not giving enough shits that it’s unhygienic. Each sip burns down my throat and into my chest. And the vodka tastes fucking horrible but we’re not drinking for the flavour.

As the alcohol starts to take it’s effect, we finally break the silence. I can feel my heart pulsing inside of my head and everything is swimming. My brain and my eyes have melted.  
Strass stands up, his legs buckling but he rights himself and then he salutes. Thanks to alcohol, it’s a horrible salute.  
“HEIL HITLER.”  
It shatters the dead silence of the empty park.  
“HEIL HITLER,” I yell in return but even louder.  
“ **HEIL HITLER** .” He salutes again but even more aggressively.  
“ **HEIL HITLER** .” I stand up, leaning on the swing. I dig the caps of my boots into the woodchips and yell as loud as I can.  
“ ** _HEIL HITLER_**.” he screams and aggressively salutes. And I finally get off the swing.  
 _“_ ** _HEIL HITLER._** ” I screech at full lung capacity and I do my best salute.  
  
We end up marching around the small playground saluting and yelling and laughing. Yelling about Marx and Mussolini and I don’t remember who else. My brain is a haze and refuses to remember anything that happens. It’s not that I forgot, it’s just that it never bothered to remember in the first place.  
  
  
  
  


  
I stagger to his bathroom as quickly as I can, bile rising in my throat. I manage to get there in time and I hurl into the toilet.  
“Naz your hat.” He slurs. He removes my ushanka and pats my back reassuringly. I’m so fucking overwhelmed I nearly start crying. But they’re happy tears.  
“Thank you. I love you so much comrade.” and I wipe my mouth with the back of my sleeve.

We spend the rest of the night sitting on the cold tiles, sharing the toilet for when we throw up. We talk about everything and nothing. I barely remember a single thing we talked about. But I feel loved.  
It's feeling of true camaraderie.   
  


**Vibing with friends – Part two** **  
**We sit on the floor in Ba’ath’s room working on the stupid group project. I don’t see how any of this is any use at all. Like I’m not going to remember any of this shit in two months or even next weekend. We just want a decent mark.  
  
I glance around his room, it’s relatively small with an old bunk bed, soccer posters and a massive cardboard cut-out of Saddam Hussein standing in the corner which is new. I’ve been over to his house loads but I’ve never seen this monstrosity.  
“Why do you have an Saddam cut-out in your room.”  
“You have a Lenin bust so you’re not one to talk.”  
I shrug.  
“Yeah, that’s true,” I say and he laughs.  
“But Saddam is based as fuck. I love Saddam and Assad too.”  
“Resisting American imperialism is always based comrade.” and he goes to fist bump me.  
  
His mother cooks us dinner. I don’t know what it is but I’m pretty sure it’s an eggplant dish. But shit, does it taste good. I’m pretty sure dinner is usually meant to be a light meal, but I end up asking for seconds.  
While we eat, his mum asks me questions about school in rapid-fire. I can sense the embarrassment radiating out from Ba’ath who’s just trying to eat his dinner.

“يرجى تركه وحده” he hisses at her.

But she keeps asking me questions. She asks me how my grades are doing, how my dads are doing and what I’m planning on doing in the holidays (nothing). I just keep talking with a smug ass grin on my face while Ba’ath is ready to fling himself into the sun. This happens every time.  
  
After dinner, we disappear into his room again and quickly finish the project. It’s done by 9pm.  
“Naz you want to play something?”  
“Like what?”  
“I don’t know. I don’t really have much multiplayer stuff, but I can grab another chair and we can play the sims together.”  
  
He pulls up a chair and we start the game.  
“Can we make a really ugly sim and drown people in the pool?” he asks.  
“Nein. We should make someone like Stalin or some shit.”  
“Eh. No. Fine. Is Assad a good compromise?”  
  
We try to make our best Assad sim, but he only vaguely resembles Assad.  
“We can give him the good trait.”  
“Good idea Naz. Also the genius and the ambitious trait.”  
“Based.” and then we load into a cheap plot of land.  
  
Together we build a shit house. It’s pretty much a square with a bed, kitchen and a bathroom. And then we spent the next two hours terrorising other sims. Berating them, giving them mean gifts and then fighting them while cackling like a pack of hyenas.  
  
  
  
  
  


I crawl under the sheets on the bottom bunk. He turns the light off and then I feel the bed quiver as he climbs up the ladder. A dim light flicks on, it’s mounted on the wall by his bed. Saddam Hussein now casts intimidating shadows all over his small room.  
  
The thick sheets crush me and the bunk above me doesn’t give me much space. But I don’t feel claustrophobic. I just feel comfortable. Especially with the meal still sitting heavily in my stomach.  
  
“Hey Naz?” he whispers faintly in the dark.  
“Да?”  
“do you ever just want to drop out? I know it’s a really bad idea and I’d never do it but sometimes…”  
“Yeah. Sometimes I’ve just fucking had it. Sometimes I just wanna go apeshit and just drop out. I’m just so fucking tired of this shit. So fucking tired.”  
“Sometimes I feel like we should just all drop out and travel around the world. Me, you and Strass and we can go to Russia, Germany, Syria and wherever.”  
“Yeah, we can go see the Reichstag.”  
“and we can go explore Damascus and Baghdad.”  
“Moscow and Stalingrad.”  
“Occupied Palestine. Israel. More like isn’t real amiright.”  
“Fuck Israel. No more Israel.”  
“Inshallah. Israel is an illegitimate state. But Imagine a unified Arab state. It’ll be communist and I’ll be on the vanguard party, leading the fight against Zionism and American imperialism.” he says wistfully.  
“I just hate Jews.”  
“Me too Naz, me too. Good night.” And he flicks the light off.  
“Good night Ba’ath.”  
  
And I roll over and sleep claims me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also just want to 3200000% make it crystal clear that Naz says I love you in a platonic way. He's a teen and I will skin anyone alive who tries to ship him.
> 
> Thanks to my buddy google translate, Ba'ath tells his mum to leave Naz alone. Please tell me if google translate got it wrong.


	3. The International League of Nationalists - Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: the F slur. Homophobia directed at a gay person. If you hc Homonationalist as a trans guy, cw for misgendering/transphobia
> 
> Hope this turned out alright.

Vati’s hand sits on my shoulder. Three other figures are watching me. I recognise two of them from vati’s BBQs. The Conservative and the Homonationalist.  
We’re all standing in Conservative’s garden. It’s a sparse and dry lawn and right in the middle sits an unlit pyre.

“This is my son, Naz and he’s joining the International League of Nationalists.”  
“The commie? He killed 200 million.” Conservative’s face wrinkles in disgust.  
“Throw the libtard out of the choppie.” Adds another man who I had never met before. His shirt is wrinkled and massive bags hang under his eyes.  
“200 million. Greatly exaggerated. Holodomor? Never happened.”  
Conservative still has that unpleasant expression sitting on his face. Like he just tread in a pile of dog shit. I don't have the energy or the guts to be offended or to go apeshit at him.  
“If anything, those supposed 200 million deaths would make him an excellent member of this league. Wouldn’t it Conservative? And if you’re not happy with that Conservative, we can always find new members. Do you remember what we did with the last ones?” I see vati grin him but he’s showing too many teeth for it to be friendly.

“Um well, can someone help me get the books from inside the house. I’m so weak and I desperately need a big strong man to help me.” Homonationalist’s voice brings the staring contest to an abrupt standstill. Conservative sighs, turns around and heads into the house with the faggot.

I walk up the dishevelled man.  
“Hi, I’m Nazbol. Economically left, culturally right.” and hold out my hand. He doesn't take it. The one time I go out of my way to be polite, it gets declined.  
“Don’t fucking touch me, you disgusting fucking collectivist.”  
I smile at him awkwardly.  
“Well, who are you?”  
“Hoppean and now fuck off.” he hisses.

I watch vati throw a book into the pyre. Fire licks up the cover and the pages disintegrate into ash.  
We watched the sunrise an hour or two ago and it had quickly gotten dark. The pyre is the only light source in the garden.  
I follow his lead and grab a book of the pile. From a quick glance at the cover, it’s a biology book and then I throw it in. It’s engulfed in a column of flames.

For some unexplained reason, Homonationalist struts over to our side of the pyre.  
“Oh hey honey, I haven’t had the choice to say hi yet.”  
“Leave.”  
I see the man’s smile quiver but then he rights himself, his flamboyant confidence returning. Vati just ignores him.  
“How’s your boyfriend Nazi? I mean he’s been your boyfriend for a while. Have you considered proposing? I know this woman and she’s really good at event management and I can h-“  
“I’m not a perverted homosexual like you are. Someone, please get the gas chambers fired up. I can’t handle this degenerate anymore.” and he picks up another book and tosses it into the flames.  
“You wouldn’t gas me would you?”  
Vati doesn’t say anything apart from smile. It’s the same smile from earlier, unsettling and deadly. But I don’t think Homonationalist has noticed it’d be a good idea to shut the fuck up.

“Also sweetie, why do you always bully me? You constantly call me a degenerate and a pansy queer but we all know you’re just gay and repressed.”  
“Shut the fuck up. I am not a degenerate.”  
“Oh, honey you are. You’re just not ready to admit it yet.”

I throw another book into the fire and in the corner of my eye, I see vati lunge at the degenerate’s throat. I take the opportunity to slink inside the house.

It’s completely dark apart from the light shining from the kitchen. A massive American flag hangs over the sofa, magazines sit on the coffee and a crucifix hangs next to a framed picture of Jordan Peterson which I have the itching urge to smash. But I don’t.

I walk into the kitchen. A soft glow is imitating from the oven. I open it and peer inside.  
And before me sits a casserole. Heat rising from the cheesy tomato covered Fusilli.

I reach in, grab a singular noodle and take it out quickly. The searing heat becomes unbearable quickly and I instinctively let it drop on the kitchen tiles.  
My eyes glance around the kitchen. Of course, no one’s there but I can’t shake the feeling of a slap on the wrist for obeying orders or authority.

I tear off a paper towel and quickly grab the noddle off the floor. And I throw it in the bin.  
No one will ever know.

We end up seated around Conservative’s large dining table. There’s a couple of empty chairs since it was probably intended for a family or something. But Conservative has no family.  
He makes us all hold hands and then we say the grace. I watch him, his eyes closed and his voice quiet in a disgusting display of reverence. And this is exactly what will be the death of the west, Christianity and it’s the exaltation of the weak and the depraved. It’s the opium of the masses fed to them by the bourgeois.  
When he finishes, I finally get to taste what I tried to taste in the kitchen. The faggot is a good cook and I take seconds. During the whole meal, I see the kulak making rude gestures and expressions at me. But only when vati isn’t looking.

And somehow the conversation always leads back to tradition. This always happens at the BBQS and It’s always fucking tradition. This time its vati who’s leading it. He makes jabs at Conservative and it's justified. The moderate only cares about American traditions and the confederacy but chooses to ignore the traditions of the Aryan race.  
“Tradition has been forgotten, the world is rife with disorder, chaos and society is degenerate. The west has been in the dark ages, the fourth stage of the Kali Yuga, for 6 thousand fucking years. A spiritual decline and we need to reject modernity before it will destroy us.” he rambles on.  
“And that’s why we need to genocide the Jews,” I add on the end and we smile at each other.  
“Yes exactly. Naz gets it. Homonash slightly gets it and Hoppean understands the need for the removal of degenerates. So why is it so hard for you to understand Conservative?”  
“The Jews are our brothers and sisters Nazi.”  
“My name is White Identarian.”  
“Please stop with this nonsense Nazi.”  
“Call me Nazi one more time…” I see vati stand up slowly and glare at the man sitting opposite him.  
“Nazi please stop this. I am trying to eat di-“

And for the second time today, vati lunges at someone. His usual calm and polite outside shell is shattered by the burst of violence.  
He flings himself across the table at Conservative. It bucks under his weight, dislodging the casserole dish off the wooden rests it was sitting on. Pasta spills onto tablecloth but neither Conservative or vati do anything, too occupied beating the shit out of each other.

“Not my fucking casserole.” laments Homonationalist but no one seems to hear and if they did, they don’t give a shit. I spring into action and start scooping up fistfuls of the hot pasta. He joins in.  
“The one time there’s food that’s not cigarettes and Starbucks, it gets ruined. I actually effort into this.” I can see him start to tear up.  
“And also the lesbian-owned café on the corner which always makes the best pastries. God, I just want one of those Danish pastries. I eat there pretty much everyday.” his voice quivers.  
But we quickly manage to shovel the rest of the pasta back into the dish before he starts crying.

And then just sit there and watch while Homonationalist, who recovered very quickly from the casserole shit just yells words of encouragement at whoever happens to be winning in that particular moment.  
They’re decking it out on the ground by Conservative’s chair. Somehow vati made it over the table when I wasn’t paying attention. Maybe he was dragged over or maybe he did it himself.

Hoppean just keeps eating, completely unphased. He’s shovelling food into one mouth with his fork with one hand and with the other, scrolling on his phone. His eyes are glued to it apart from when I see him steal sly glances over at Homonationalist. I don’t know if Homonationalist notices but I do.

And at that moment, Hoppean stands up. Slowly and deliberately straightening his hunched back.  
“SHUT THE FUCK UP LIBTARDS. YOU’RE ACTING LIKE A HORDE OF BLACK SAVAGES AT A COOKOUT.”  
The two fighting men snap their head around to look at him.  
“Sweeties can you please stop. You ruined my casserole and it made me really sad.” he snaps his fingers at us.  
Vati lets go of Conservative.  
“Someone gas the fucking pansy. Homonationalist, the real men can deal with their shit without needing your help.”  
“You are all degenerates and commies. Shut the fuck up. I’m trying to watch the stock market in peace. You are violating the NAP of my ears.”  
Hoppean slowly makes eye contact with all of us, one by one.

And miraculously it works. Conservative sits back down in his chair and picks up his fork. His nose is slightly bloodied but he says nothing.  
Vati sits down in his chair, not before flicking a noodle on his uniform in Conservative’s direction.  
We finish the meal in silence.

Homonationalist pulls me aside later. He looks at me solemnly and opens his wallet.  
“Thank you for helping me with the casserole.” and he hands me a 50 dollar note. I am slightly overwhelmed. I could buy the new Battlefield or that R6 skin I really want. A smile breaks out on my face.  
“Thank you, comrade. I will redistribute it but where did you get the money from?” and he goes to give me a quick hug.  
He lowers his voice.  
“Don’t tell the others because it’s really degenerate but I have a sugar daddy.”  
“That explains the rampant consumerism which you rely on to give you a shred of happiness since you are part of the alienated working class.”  
“No hone-e. I have never worked a day in my life. Look at these nails bitch.” And he proudly shows me his pink claws.

I sit in the car, the 50 dollars in my back pocket. We drive through the dark and I watch the streetlights go past.  
“Schatz, how did you like that.”  
“It was pretty interesting I guess.” my mind is on the money and the passing cars.  
“I think it’s important for you to spend time with other nationalists and it’d be nice if you joined us again. I'm proud of you Naz.”  
“Yeah sure, why not vati.”  
“That’s the spirit.” and he smiles at me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shameless plug but I got a jritter. @TooDumb1312Die
> 
> Concerning the weird shit Nazi says,  
> I accidentally did research for some of this shit thanks to a rabbit hole I fell into all because of a thread on /leftypol/ about really fucking insane nazi esoterism bullshit. The shit he says matches up with shit that Evola believed.  
> I didn’t actually read any fash shit tho, just shit written about the fash shit. And holy shit some of it is fucking insane. Like bonkers. Like holy shit. Shit with sex magic and giants. Hitler is the reincarnation of xyz god and lives in Antartica and shit with aliens


	4. Pretty much just a flashback chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very hodgepodge chapter with various shit, so like 5 parts and shit but set at different times.
> 
> Don't worry it is all in chronological order and shit

**Part One (Nazi) – not too long after Ancom’s death  
**He’s hunched over on the sofa weeping. Naz has gone to bed so it’s an all-clear for Commie’s nightly ritual of crying like a little bitch. We’re trying our best to make everything look normal to Naz for the sake of stability but in reality, Commie is still upset over the queer and we barely even tolerate each other.  
I start to circle him like a vulture. A vulture ready to feast. And then I descend on him.  
  
“Are you really still crying about that degenerate? Pathetic. I thought better of you. I thought you were fucking strong.” I spit. His weakness disgusts me.  
“Fuck off Nazi.”  
“No this is something we have to talk about. You let the anarchist make you weak. His chaos has rotted away at your foundations. You are strong and authoritarian, and you let him take that away from you.”  
“It’s que/quem.” and he starts sobbing again.  
“Do you ever think he’ll ever come back to you? If so, you’re fucking delusional and you should just off yourself right now. It’ll do us all a favour.”

  
As much as I hate it, I admit that deep down, I was always jealous of Ancom. I was so fucking jealous of the attention he got. And Commie constantly fawning over him. I fucking hate it. I tried to repress it, but it never worked. His presence constantly reminding me and awakening it. It was fucking degeneracy and I hated myself for it. I still hate myself for it.  
  


I jerk him up by the collar of his coat. My face centimetres away from his. I see the scars and the tear tracks on his cheeks in full HD.  
“You’re pathetic. We could have unified, and we’d have been unbeatable, and you know that. You want nothing more than power and authority and yet you let yourself get watered down by some hippie. You could have had me. We could have been unstoppable.” I hiss at him.

 _  
_ He grabs my face and I flinch, preparing myself for the incoming fist. But instead it’s his hot wet mouth on mine. He tastes like alcohol but he always tastes like alcohol now.  
The deepens the kiss and I start to feel his hands roam. And holy shit I love it. My brain has short-circuited and I feel like I've gone completely insane.  
  
We come up for air.  
“I fucking hate you, you fascist pig. I fucking hate you so much.”  
“I hate you too, you degenerate.” and he kisses me again.  
  
His large hand grabs for my ass. It’s not gentle. There isn’t a single shred of love or care in it, but I drink it up. Every point where his calloused hands touch me feels like electricity. I hate myself. I hate myself so fucking much.  
  
  
I am a limp rag doll when he drags me to our bedroom, my arms wrapped around his neck and a gleeful smile plastered on my face.  
I am finally getting what I want.

  
  
  
**Part two (Commie) – probably around a year later or so  
** I walk into the lounge, it’s completely dark with the TV as it’s the only light source. And in front of that TV is Nazi flicking aimlessly through the channels. I can feel the tension radiating off him in waves.  
As I sit down on the couch next to him, his back straightens. He doesn’t verbally acknowledge my presence but instead, he keeps staring at the TV. He’s stiff and lifeless with massive bags under his eyes. More stiff and lifeless than when they’d prop up a corpse to take a photo of it in the 1800s.  
  
He finally settles on a channel. It’s some soccer match. I quickly zone out and descend deep into thought. And the whole world disappears around them.  
I think about Anarkiddy. I’d have been content with being friends with quem but now que’s dead. Gone forever. In quer place is a complete stranger. They look the same. They sound the same. But Anarkiddy is gone and Post-Left despises me. Que doesn’t want anything to do with me and I understand and respect that. Fully. I get it.  
I don’t even know if I truly want anything to do with quem either. Sometimes I think ‘if que disappeared from my life forever, it wouldn’t bother me in the slightest’. And it makes me feel guilty thinking that since after all, they're dead. But I can't help but thinking it since it's true.  
  
  
I think about my short-lived rebound with Maoism. I needed help getting over Anarkiddy and she was bored so it was perfect, I guess. We both knew what the other wanted before getting into it. And at least we’re still friends and we go hunting occasionally. Usually for sparrows in her backyard.  
  
And then the brief times where Nazi’s neediness and desperation overrode his need to suppress his ‘degenerate’ urges. I don’t know what he thinks of me truly.  
Does he have feelings for me? Does he despise me and want me dead? Probably.  
  
I break the silence.  
“Nazi.”  
He doesn’t look at me, his eyes still glued on the soccer.  
“Nazi.”  
“Shut up you Slavic scum. I’m trying to watch the football and it’s ‘White Identarian’ not ‘Nazi’.”  
“What am I to you?”  
“You’re a disgusting Untermensch. That’s what you are to me.”  
“Net. I mean seriously. Vhat am I to you?”  
“You’re the faggot I’m pretending to be in a relationship with for the sake of my son.”  
  
  
He takes his eyes off the TV and turns to face me. His cold eyes glimmer, lit slightly by the glare of the TV.  
“You disgust me, Commie. You really fucking disgust me.”  
“Please just tell me vhat I am to you since I am getting very mixed signals comrade.”  
“Leave me alone.”  
“Tell me.”  
“Fine. I’ll fucking tell you. I have fucking feelings for you, you faggot. You’re a disgusting Slav and I’m a degenerate. And I’m so fucking ashamed of myself for it. I wish I had actually died when we fought the centrist. I fucking hated when you were fucking that bitch Maoism but I couldn’t tell you to fucking stop. I fucking hate you so much. I hate you.”  
  
I expect him to lunge for me, his hand around my throat or to storm out. But something unexpected happens.  
  
**Nazi** **  
** In a moment fueled by my own delusions and degeneracy, I fling myself at Commie. He grabs me and a wave of exhilaration flushes through me. I laugh.  
“I hate you so much.” but there’s no malice in my voice.

He’s holding me at arm’s length away from him, his large hands grip my upper arms. I feel on top of the world. This is better than any drug (that Julius Evola ever took).

  
I’ve lost it, haven't I? I’ve lost it. 

  
“Vhat was that Nazi?” he seems genuinely surprised, but it snaps me out of the depraved trance.  
“I don’t know.”  
  
The moment I squirm out of his grip and walk out of the lounge, my thoughts come back down to reality. The heated cloud of emotions dissipates and then all that’s left behind is shame. The burning feeling of shame and embarrassment that twists and sears my gut like a writhing snake. Like the leviathan.  
I just did something horrible. I should have never fucking done that. I should have never fucking done that. Ever.  
Utter disgust at my actions and my 'emotions'. I gave into them and these disgusting perversions are exactly what's causing the downfall of the west. I am the largest hypocrite of all the four extremists. I'm fucking disgusting.  
I'm fucking disgusted at how I let myself be so weak. I am a fucking disgusting perverted hypocrite. Hitler would have sent me to a concentration camp and I'd have deserved it.

I spend the rest of the night trying to process it and crying in my room.  
  
  
  
**Part three (Commie) - maybe a week or so later  
** I end up wandering into his old room, the room that was his before he moved into mine.  
I scan his bookshelf and there are various books on military history, general history and obviously fascist theory. One book stands out to me. It’s an old tatty copy of something called _Zur Welteismeteorologie_. I grab it out of curiosity and wander downstairs.  
  


He later spots me with the copy of the book.  
“Commie, why do you have my book?”

“I was just wondering vhat it was. I do not speak any German so I understand none of it.”  
“Oh, it’s the World Ice Theory. It’s the idea that ice moons, ice planets, the ether which is also made from ice has and will continue to determine the entire development of the universe. It was pretty big in the Third Reich and Hitler loved it.”  
“Comrade I assume you don’t actually believe in that.” He doesn’t respond so I take it as a yes.  
“Haha vell it’s good you don’t believe it then. It is very unscientific and I vould know since I got the first man in space. I von the space race too. I mean ve got so many victories and the yanks only got one.”  
Nazi gulps and still doesn’t say anything.  
I raise an eyebrow. His face goes slightly red.  
  
“Commie you have to understand that it’s better than the Jewish theory of relativity. My Nordic ancestors grew strong in the ice and the snow. And the only reason why the scientific community doesn’t accept the World Ice Theory is because they’re all Jews.” He tries to explain it away frantically. The red tinge is getting even stronger.  
“Да, да. I am sure it is that. At least Posadism’s ufology makes some logical sense.”  
He grabs the book from my hands.  
“Fuck you Commie. Hurensohn.” And stomps off.

  
  


**Part four (Commie) – maybe a few months or so later  
** He cocks the Luger. The polished metal barrel gleams in the early morning sunlight and the beautiful wooden handle sits comfortably in his hand. Usually, I would not be the one to praise German firearms but even I’d admit that it’s a very nice gun.  
  
And then he points the gun. He points it at the bound figure kneeling on the grass. I stand behind him, my hand resting on his shoulder. I squeeze his shoulder lightly in encouragement, but he doesn’t need it.

  
The rest of the Nationalists stand around us in Homonationalist’s beautiful but small garden. Their faces are stiff and emotionless apart from Homonationalist who is his usual campy self. A sombre reverence perhaps or maybe they know this is something he has to do for the sake of the group. It’s like putting down a sick pet.  
Even I am stiff and emotionless but then I am the bastion of authoritarianism and the state.  
I may not be a Nationalist, but I understand the necessity of purges. Purges that remove those who are revisionist and capitalist from your ranks before they destroy everything you hold dear.  
  
The centrist who I forgot the name of whimpers. He pleads for mercy but no one listens.  
Nazi finally realised he was a liability to their group of actual authoritarian and nationalists. And I fully understand that. I have my own regrets. I wish I had purged more and maybe the USSR might have not become revisionist, maybe it would still be here today.  
And at best the centrist he was dragging everyone down with him unintentionally and at worst he was a mole and a traitor just waiting to be caught.  
  
I give Nazi one last squeeze on the shoulder.  
  
The shot well trained rings out and the man’s body falls forward, limp and lifeless.  
  
“Good job comrade.”  
  
  
  
**Part five (Commie) – a couple of hours later** **  
** “You’re not that bad Commie.” He slurs. A light accent breaks though his usually honeyed voice and his eyes sparkle. Tipsy Nazi is a treat. A genuine smile, the letting down of his guard and small laughs. Completely different from the cold and stern Nazi.  
  
I run my fingers through his hair, and he lets me. His face is deliciously close to mine, close enough that I can smell the alcohol on his breath.  
  
“Commie now that Moderate-Lee is dead, I think we might need new members. Do you have any ideas?”  
“Naz. And If I remember correctly there is a kulak who is a nationalist. Hoppean.”  
“That’s a good idea. Also, I think I should purge Pan-Africanism. I don’t want black people in my group. I mean his negroid skull... yeah... what do you think?” and he looks at me for approval.  
“I mean I see nothing vrong vith it comrade.”  
“Well, that’s settled then.” And he leans in for a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wholesome family posting will commence again next chapter


	5. Nazi has fullfilling missionary sex with tankie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Concerning the title, I lied. It's not missionary.
> 
> Also there's two parts to it since I wrote two things but wanted to publish both. The second one is present day and the first part is probably after the horseshoe centrist centricide episode but before they started hate fucking. The second part is wholesome tho.
> 
> Hope this turns out good since I've never written smut so

**Part one - Commie**  
I swing open the door to Nazi’s room, a plate in hand.  
“Just vanted to bring you din-”  
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH GET OUT.”  
And at that moment I realise what’s going on. He’s sitting on his bed with his laptop and his cock in his hand.  
The laptop snaps shut but it’s too late. I saw what was on it. Gay porn.  
  
  
I can see him panicking, like a wounded animal trapped in a corner. Fear in his eyes.  
“You- you didn’t see anything.” he blubbers, his usual polite demeanour gone in an instance.  
I place the plate down on his desk.  
“I know what I saw, comrade.” and I smile.  
“YOU DIDN’T SEE ANYTHING.”  
“I didn’t know were gay. The whole time you spent being homophobic and transphobic, you secretly wanted it all along.”  
“I don’t fucking want it.”  
“Comrade, I don’t believe you. But just in case you’re curious we can try something.”  
“Fuck off. I don’t want anything. It wasn’t gay. It was just a flat-chested woman. I’m not a fucking faggot”  
“Comrade, the offer still stands. You can get on the floor right now and suck me off if you want. Or I can leave.”  
  
He doesn’t say anything but he places his laptop on the bedside table and climbs off his bed. He knees on the ground in front of me and I unzip my pants.  
  
  
  
  
  
I fuck into his tight, wet mouth. I watch tears well up in his blue eyes but I don’t fucking care. I just keep thrusting. As I throat fuck him, I notice he’s also hard. He’s pathetically jerking his hips in attempts to get any release. But it doesn’t work.   
  


I come down his throat, quickly remove myself and zip my trousers up. He just looks at me, still on his knees but with cum and drool around his mouth. If he wasn’t already on the verge of tears, he really is now. It only finally clicked in his mind what happened and I let out a small chuckle.  
  
“That vasn’t too bad comrade.”  
And he starts to cry silently, the tears trickling down his cheeks.  
“I’m not a faggot. Please leave me alone. Please go.” but I don’t do as he says.  
  
I smile cruelly and place the sole of my foot on his crotch, a bulge visible in his chinos. The tears come even faster.  
“If you’re not a faggot then what is that in your pants.”  
“FUCK OFF FUCK OFF I’M NOT GAY.”  
“Just admit you’re gay comrade and I’ll deal with it.” and I grind down with my boot to prove the point. He whimpers. Whether in pain, pleasure or pain, I don’t know and frankly, I don’t give a shit.  
“Fuck off. You belong in the camps.”  
“Just say it. It’s not hard. It’s just a few vords.”  
  


He wipes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Fine, you faggot. I’m fucking gay. Are you fucking happy now? You can fucking destroy me. Just fucking break me. I fucking hate you.”  
“I’m so proud of you Nazi.” I croon and cup his cheek with one of my hands. He leans into my touch.  
“Please just fuck me. Please, please, please.”  
  
I pick up and carefully place him on his bed.  
“Mmh yes I will comrade.”  
**  
** **  
**  
  
**Part two - Commie  
**I pull down my pants and I can feel his eyes on my back, intently watching me. He’s sitting in the bathtub and he has been for a while. The water is probably cold by now but I’ve handled colder water. 

He doesn’t say anything either as I lower myself into the bathtub, at the opposite end to him. The water isn’t actually that cold, it’s just lukewarm.  
My legs lie next to his in the soapy water. I pat his ankles. But all he does is give me a small smile.  
“You alright comrade?”  
“Yeah. Just thinking,” he says absentmindedly.  
“About vhat comrade?”  
“I want to go back to university. I know I got a degree but I want to try again. With art school.” and he sighs.  
“I understand comrade. Do you vant to sit on my lap or anything?”  
  
He manoeuvres himself onto my lap and leans back into me. His wet body on my dry chest and he sighs again.  
I wrap my arms around him and we just sit there. I don’t know for how long. The temperature of the bath becomes cold, the water on my torso starts to dry slowly and I just listen to his breathing. Slow and steady.  
  
I feel him shiver on my lap but I don’t say anything. I just rub his arms.  
  
Dead silence.  
  
Until he speaks.  
“Love me.”  
“Vhat?”  
“You know exactly what I mean.”  
  
And in a quick movement, he turns himself around on my lap. He nestles his face into my chest, into the crook on my neck. My fingers thread through his damp hair and he lets out a low happy hum. It’s so soft.  
  


With my hand on the small of his back, I scoot him even closer to me. He wraps his arms around my neck. He kisses me softly.  
“Y’know commie, I really love you.”  
“I love you too comrade.”  
And he kisses me again.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
I bite his lip. He moans into my mouth. His fingers grip my back as he grinds into my erection.  
My calloused hands run down his back, to his perfect ass. His beautiful back. His beautiful everything. So fucking perfect.   
  
He’s desperate for every touch and rolls his hips into me again.  
“Comrade, I think we’ll have to take this somewhere else.”  
He crawls off me eagerly and together we climb out of the tub, water dripping onto the tiles. But we can clean that later.  
  
I toss him a towel.  
“Ve will need one for later as well, comrade.”  
  
  
  
  


In my hands, I hold his face. My fingers splayed out on his beautiful cheeks and I kiss him.  
I gently shove him backwards onto the bed. He giggles and it would almost be out of character but it’s not. It’s only hidden. Hidden from the rest of the world but I get to see it.  
Cheeks flushed bright red and grinning. It’s not his evil grin though. It’s a grin of pure delight and exhilaration.

The bed dips as I land on it, next to him. We quickly close the between the two of us, my tongue in his mouth and my hand rummaging around in the bedside drawers.  
He grinds into me, desperate for any sort of release or any sort of touch.

When I find the lube, I quickly slick up my fingers.

  
  
  
  


I know it hits a spot when he lets out an embarrassing noise. His fingers grip onto my arms like vices but I don’t particularly mind. 

And I pepper him with kisses, along his jawline, his neck. I suck bruises on the Aryan skin he’s so proud of it. He won’t be so white anymore. But he doesn’t mind and each one coaxes out little sounds of enjoyment.

  
  


When I remove my fingers and he lets out a small needy whine into my chest. I chuckle in response.  
“Vho vould have thought you’d like that comrade.”  
“Shut up degen.” and he grinds into me desperately instead.  
“Please just fuck me.”  
  
“Patience comrade.” and I give his ass a light smack.  
“Please commie? I need it so fucking bad. I’m going to fucking die.” he whines.  
“Mmm sure красотка” and I sit up.  
  
He eagerly rolls onto his front and I start to lube up. He watches me.  
“Please just hurry up, you stupid leftist.” he says as props himself up, his ass in the air and his face in the pillow.  
  
I slide in it, gripping his hips. He lets out an “oof” but quickly adjusts to it. And then I trust home.  
I roll into him, with deliberate rhythmic thrusts. And he’s completely soft and pliant under me, his slim body that I love so much.  
  
He clutches onto the sheets, gripping them like his life depends on it. I place my hand on his hand, my fingers intertwining with his. 

  
  


  
  


When it’s all said and done, we collapse into the mattress. He looks at my blissfully, a faint smile on his lips and his hair messy.

He nestles into me and I place a kiss on his forehead.   
“Gut’ nacht schatz”  
“Good night comrade”  
And we fall asleep in each other’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also thank you to the people in the gc for the idea for part one


	6. The Birthday Party

  
The moment Nazi disappears outside of the house for his Nationalist meetings, I march up the stairs and knock on Naz’s room.  
“Ja?”  
I open the door and he’s playing COD.  
“Naz. It’s your dad’s birthday. Ve have to get things ready.”  
“Hang on. When I finish the match.”  
“Фантастика. Very good.” and I disappear downstairs again.  
  
  
I rummage through the cabinets, hunting down everything for what I need. Everything I need for Nazi’s honeycake, using the recipe from my mother. Naz joins me 15 minutes later and together we whip together the mixture. Eggs, sugar, honey and so on and so on.  
Then we bake each layer until it’s beautifully brown but each layer only takes 10 minutes since they’re very thin.  
  
In the corner of my eyes, as I’m taking a layer out of the oven, I see Naz’s finger dipping into the mix.  
“Сволочь. Get your fingers out of the cake mix!”  
He smugly licks his fingers and then dips another one in.  
“Comrade that is disgusting. I said get your damn fingers out of the damn cake mix!” and laughs but does as I say.  
  
  
Naz walks over to the liquor cabinet and opens it. At the top is a little shelf, with no alcohol. The unopened bottles of liquor sit beneath it. From the little shelf, he grabs an unopened pack of crepe streamers.  
“Comrade vhen I have birthday parties we always have streamers so we’re doing that for Papi.” and tears open the pack. Red, blues, pinks, oranges and greens tumble out onto the floor.  
He scrambles to pick them up as they roll on the floor and I grab a chair. Looks like I’m taking a break from baking.  
  
He stands on the chair, Blu-Tack in one hand and a streamer in the other. He carefully sticks the end of the blue streamer to the ceiling and climbs off the chair. He walks to the other end of the room, the crepe trailing behind him and over the sofa. I carry the chair to meet him and he climbs on it again. And we repeat until we’ve covered the room in blue.  
  
  
  
  
An hour after I’ve finished the cake, I hear the front door open. Naz shoots a glance at me.  
“That has to be Papi.”  
“Да”  
  
He pulls his boots off, completely unaware of rights in front of him. Streamers and some gifts on the living room table. Things I picked out just for him.  
  
He starts to walk towards me.  
His eyes glisten. Tears start to roll down his cheeks. Naz just looks at him in confusion and panic. Panic hits me. Did we fuck up? Did we do something wrong?  
“Oh shit.”  
“Don’t swear Naz.”  
  
  
“Вот дерьмо. Shit. Shit. Shit. ” I mutter under my breath as I quickly close the gap between me and Nazi, my arms wrapping around him.  
“What’s wrong солнышко” I whisper. He sniffles into my chest, his tears already seeping into my sweater.  
“Thank you so much. Thank you so much.” he blubbers.  
I give him a kiss. I see Naz cringe in the corner of my eye.

He drags me into our bedroom and we just stand there, in each other's arms. I just let him cry and then he finally speaks.  
“I never had birthday parties as a child. My parents didn't believe in them plus we couldn't afford them.”  
“I understand comrade.” and I rub his back.  
“And I don’t even know if my parents ever loved me.” and he keeps going. His tears are starting to drip down his neck.  
“My dad was never there. He went to get some fucking milk and I only have one memory of him. Like he just wasn’t there and my mum never gave a shit. How can you not give a shit about your own fucking son.”  
I squeeze him tight.  
“She doesn’t know anything about me. She never calls me. She never gave a shit once I moved out. I mean I don’t even think she gave a shit when I was there. Man, I just want to be fucking loved.”  
“Ve love you. Naz loves you so much and I love you so much. You are very loved.”  
“I know. I know.” I feel his hands dig into me, holding me even tighter. Like we couldn’t possibly get even closer. And the tears intensify again.  
“Comrade I love you so much. I adore you.”  
“Me too. I love you too. I don’t even care if it’s degenerate. I love you so much. You don’t even know how important you are.” he mumbles in between the tears.  
  
He cries it out and then I drag him back into the lounge, his hand in mine. He quickly pulls himself together in front of Naz but he’s not fooling anyone, his face red and puffy.

  
  
He sits down on the sofa, perched on the end and looking at us.  
“Just open the presents, Papi.”  
And he does as Naz suggests, grabbing the first present. His slender fingers carefully peel off the wrapping paper, taking care to not rip it too much. Inside are two books. A hardcover book on Albrecht Dürer and a copy of Revolt Against the Modern World.  
He flips open the Evola book and quickly spots the message I wrote to him. Tears start to well up in his eyes again.  
  
_Солнышко,  
__Theory is extremely important so I hope you enjoy this gift._  
_Even though we came together for unusual circumstances and have had a tricky past, I love you and you mean the world to me._  
  
He clutches it to his chest.  
“Thank you so much.”  
He stands up and presses a kiss onto my cheek. Naz cringes again but we both ignore it.  
  
  
He picks up the second present and deftly unwraps it like the last one. It’s a small rectangular box and he lifts the lid. Inside sits a Walther P38. It’s not the sort of pistol I’d normally buy but I knew he’d like it. Plus it was Naz’s idea.  
  
He looks ups at me, a soft smile on his face.  
“Thank you so much.”  
“It vas Naz’s idea. Don’t thank me, comrade.”  
  
He puts the gun down, stands up and drags Naz into a tight hug. Naz just stands there awkwardly and tries to squirm out but quickly gives up.  
“Thank you so much Schatz.” and he releases him.  
  
  
  
I quickly grab the honey cake from the kitchen and bring it in. Naz’s face lights up, ready to try what we cooked up. Well, I did most of the work.  
  
I place the cake onto the living room table and Naz quickly grabs a knife which he hands me. I carefully cut a piece for all three of us before letting him take a piece first.   
  


He bites into the piece of cake, a smile plastered on his puffy, slightly red face.  
“Thank you so much.” he mumbles, his mouth full of food. He smiles at me, beaming. I take my own slice and bite into it. It’s soft, light and slightly tangy as it should be. Naz and I did a good job.  
“Thank you so much for everything. Thank you so much, Naz, du bist ein Schatz. And thank you so much Commie. Thank you so much.” and he nearly starts crying again but pulls himself together at the last minute. 

  
  
I crawl into bed and shuffle over to him. He turns around and I wrap my arms around him. He sighs. A sigh of satisfaction and happiness.  
“Thank you so much for today Schatz.”  
“Mhm no vorries comrade. All for you.” and he hums quietly in response.  
In the dark, I feel him press a kiss against my lips. His lips linger on mine.  
“Good night Commie. I love you.”  
“I love you too.”  
  
He falls asleep quickly in my arms, tired from all the excitement of today. And I join him, also slipping into a deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also follow me @The_Red_Menace since I'm on jritter
> 
> Snufkins yell at me for my russian. Also if anyone sees any typos, yell at me for that.  
> Also give me validation, if you want :)


	7. Horny people have no rights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for transphobia as this is from Nazi's perspective so he misgenders Ancom. Also for the t slur (not the one that ends in "p").
> 
> This is pretty much just porn. Sorry if you actually wanted something wholesome. Also for context, this is before Nazi and Commie actually have like a proper relationship and shit.

I walk into what used to be Ancom’s old room. This was the centricide house after all until the anarchists left. I start to dig through the faggot’s old clothes out of curiosity. I think. I find alot of degenerate shit; stockings with ugly pride flags on them, skirts, crop-tops, a box of sex toys but I eventually find a pantie bralette combo. It was one of those panties which you tie on at the hips with two little cat ears and the bralette was exactly the same, tying it over the shoulder and with a cat-shaped keyhole where my breasts would be if I weren’t a faggot about to do some perverted degenerate shit. I had seen femboys on /pol/ and 8chan wearing things exactly like this but I keep rummaging until I find a pair of thigh highs with the exact same cat ears and the skimpiest skirt I can find.

I sit down on the bed and pull off my slacks and then put on the thigh highs. I stand in front of the mirror, the contrast between my military uniform and the faggy socks biting into my upper thigh hilarious. But not in a funny way. I am a joke.

But that doesn’t stop me. I quickly pull off my underwear, tie on the panties and put on the skirt. And now it’s even more cruelly hilarious, I turn around in it slowly in front of the mirror. The panties and the skirt barely cover anything and I can see the crease where my ass meets my thighs. Fucking degenerate and I feel sick but it doesn’t stop me.  
Soon I'm in full femboy regalia, my uniform lying on the ground. I look good but i hate myself so much for it.  
  
I hear steps in coming up the stairs and then down the hallway. Heavy footsteps and I wait with bated breath for them to pass.  
“Naz vhere are you? Do you have the portable charger?” and I hear the door open.  
I panic, grabbing my clothes for some reason but that can’t save me. His eyes settle on me.  
  
He sidles towards me and I start to freak out. Not because of him though but because of what I’ll do.  
“I didn’t know you had an ass.”  
“Well congrats now you do. Schwuchtel.”  
“Vell comrade can I touch it.”  
“Fine.”  
He’s dangerously close, and his arm reaches around to me to grab my ass, his hand under the short skirt. He squeezes it and just that makes me start to feel a tightness in the panties.I try to ignore it, hoping it’ll go away but it doesn’t. It just gets worse and I hate myself for it affecting me since I’m a disgusting coomer who gets horny at the slightest touch. He gropes me until he gets bored.  
  
  
“To be honest comrade, you veren’t who I was looking for but this is interesting.”  
“What do you mean? How is this interesting, you piece of shit?”  
“What was it that you called people who did this shit? Degenerate? Faggots? Trannies? Vell looks like the only ‘faggot’ here is you.” and he laughs. And that just makes my erection even worse. Scorn, mockery and him looking down at me, his smug grin.  
  
I try and pull my skirt down to hide it but it’s too short and barely covers anything. He closes the gap between us and grabs my hand, effectively stopping me from hiding it, as if I’d ever be able to hide it anyway.  
“Comrade you look so nice in this, shame you don’t vear it more.”  
“Shut the fuck up faggot. I fucking hate you.”  
  
He spits on his hand and then his calloused fingers slowly side down, underneath the edge of the panties until I can feel his hand around my dick. His fingers are hot and electric on my skin, the feeling of his callouses just amplifying it. His free hand fumbles around with the strings of my panties, untying them while I just grip his arm. And he slowly starts to jerk me off, my hips thrusting into his hand, chasing a release I haven't had in a long time. 

I go on my tippy toes to kiss him on the lips, it’s disappointing but it doesn't last long. Until he starts to press kisses onto my neck and jaw, almost lovingly. But I'm not fooled. He doesn't care about me and he just wants to get off.  
  
He continues to jerk me off. My face pressed into the crook of his shoulder, dead silent apart from whimpers and moans. And then he stops. He steps back and I almost fall over.  
“What the fuck was that for?”  
“I’m getting the lube.”

And he leaves the room. I quickly sit down on my bed and spit on my fingers, I know it’s not enough but I ease one finger up my ass slowly, desperate for any sort of release. I know heaven isn’t real but if it were, Evola would be looking down on me, cursing my faggotry. Cursing me for being a disgusting sodomite but I don’t stop. I’m so fucking desperate.

Commie comes back soon, with lube in hand.  
“Stop fingering yourself you degenerate slut.” and it makes me even more desperate.

I do as he says and crawl over to the edge of the bed, where he’s standing. He starts to lube up his own fingers and I quickly roll over, onto all fours. One by one he inserts his fingers until I’m ready. I’m more than ready, so fucking desperate for the release that he stole from me.  
  
Finally, he lubes his dick up and grabs my hips. And I moan just from that, he’s not even fucking me yet. And I hate myself for it. I hate myself for being a degenerate. I hate myself for being so touch starved and desperate that him grabbing makes me feel like that.  
“You useless fucking communist. Just fucking stick it in you pie- nnnghg”  
  
He fucks me, his fingers gripping me hard enough that they’ll leave bruises but I don’t care. His thrusts are rhythmic and steady until we both start to draw closer. Becoming more and more erratic, chasing pleasure and a release. We’re dead silent apart from our heavy breathing, the creak of the bed, my noises and his hips snapping into me.  
  
  
  
It’s completely loveless, him using me for sex and me using him for a simulation of affection that I’ve never received and probably will never receive. Not just from him but from anyone in life. And I've accepted that. I’ll die loveless. The last time a woman was interested in me was my girlfriend in high school but then even I wasn’t really interested in her. 

I am pretty much an incel. A redpilled, blackpilled incel.

And I wish I could get more from him. Like a shred of affection even though it’s degenerate. But I understand. He doesn’t like me and that’s because I’m unlikable. I get that. 

Sooner or later he comes in me, his little favourite “cumdump” who doesn’t actually give a shit about. He removes himself from me but his hand goes back under my skirt. He jerks me off until I come all over his hand, the skirt and Ancom’s bed. I let myself collapse onto the bed even if it means just spreading the mess further but I don’t care. I fucking hate the stupid tranny and it makes me feel slightly better that I’ve “got” his man and defiling his possessions. Or at least his man uses me when he gets bored. I fucking hate Commie too. I am literally right there. I fucking want him but he doesn’t even look my way unless he’s horny. I fucking hate this household so much. Apart from Naz.

He quickly comes back with a towel and a glass of water. I nearly fall asleep but he helps me clean up. I feel him carry me back to our bed, bridal style before I finally fall asleep, exhausted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Schwuchtel - faggot
> 
> I hope this turned out alright. I swear I'll write proper shit soon. I have some wholesome family stuff in the works anyway which is nearly done.


	8. Flashback chapter two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is essentially just another flashback chapter

**Part one  
** I sit across him like it’s World War Two again. I’m on one side of no man’s land and he’s on the other. It’s deadly silent and you can feel the air. Not literally but the tension is thick like you could reach out and grasp it and inside your hand, you’d have a miserable grey blob. I can just imagine it in my hand as I watch him eat. A grey blob of static, dense like playdough sitting in my cupped hands.

His spoon dips into his bowl.

It skims the surface of whatever is in it, picking up cornflakes and milk. I watch him eat and he glares at me, clearly not wanting me there. We do this until he finishes the meal and then he stands up.  
  
“I am leaving,” he says curtly.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Vhat do you mean? I am going to hang out vith my friends. Go drink.”  
  
“No, you won’t.”

“Commie your life is in shambles. One drink is okay yet you indulge in degeneracy until it turns you into a shell of who you were. You don’t eat properly. You don’t sleep properly. Our room is a mess and I have to clean it. You will not go drink with your friends.”  
“You are you to tell me vhat to do. Go read your Evola and keep your nose out of my life.” and says, hand waving away all my genuine concerns.  
  
He turns his back to me and starts walking towards the door but I'm quicker. It took too much effort for him to eat a proper meal at a proper time that I'm not going to let him slip out of my grasp again. 

I grab his arm, he shakes it off quickly. So I quickly block his way even though I’m not much of an obstacle. He just looks at me.  
  
“Vhy are you doing this.”

“Because you can’t keep living like this. You have a damn kid. Pull yourself together you degenerate. Just do what I fucking say.” 

He looks at me, his eyes dead.  
“Okay comrade. If you insist.”  
  


And he does as I say and it’s surprisingly easy this time. He showers and puts on clean clothes. I hate myself for worrying. I hate myself for caring. But I do it anyway. I help him clean up his shit, throwing out empty bottles with him in the dark. I’m so glad that Naz doesn’t have to see any of this.  
  


“Comrade, can I give you a hug? As a friend of course.”  
“Yeah.” I know it’s not what I want but I can pretend.  
  
His arms wrap around me, pulling me into his chest. And he finally shatters, tears trickling down his cheeks. I don’t say anything even though weakness is degenerate. I don’t want him to get mad. I just let him weep but slowly the tears start to slow and then they finally stop.  
  
“You’re almost like Ancom comrade.”

“What?” it genuinely catches me off guard.

“You’re small and angry. But also not like Ancom. You’re thin and boney. You smell like clean laundry and Doritos. Your hair is never messy.” he mumbles absentmindedly. And then his fingers run through my slicked-back hair, touselling it. 

“I’m not a replacement Ancom.” I hiss even though it hurts. I don’t want to interrupt the moment but the last thing I want is to get hurt even more.  
His arm wraps around my waist pulling me even closer.

“Нет. No, you are not.” and he gives me a kiss on the forehead.

“Then why are you treating me like your little fucktoy. You’re a disgusting fucking sodomite.”

“Comrade you know it takes two to tango. If I am a sodomite, then so are you.” and his mouth quirks up a little bit.

“Shut the fuck up.”  
But he just hums in response.  
  
“If anyone was Ancom’s replacement it was Maoism or AnSynd instead of some grouchy fascist that wants nothing to do with me.”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
“Comrade you are literally aware that I had rebounds with both of them. I am just mourning the loss of a friend vho vas important to me.” and then he lets go of me.

**Part two  
** He pulls the car over in the curve of a road, driving onto the gravel on the side of the road. This gravel berm continues for two metres before dropping off, dressed with trees but you can see the valley beneath it. The valley descends, fog shimmering between the trees in the distance.  
  
We step outside of the car, breathing in the crisp, almost cold, morning air. The damp gravel crunching under our feet. He leans against the car and I join him, standing next to him. I admire the landscape, a small smile creeping onto my face.

In the corner of my eye, I see him fish something out of his coat. It's a pack of cigarettes, he opens it and puts one on his lip.  
“You shouldn’t?”

“Vhat?” and he fishes out his lighter but he doesn’t light it.

“You shouldn’t smoke. Especially not that we now have Naz living with us.”“Yeah. You’re right, comrade. Thank you.” and he puts away the cigarette the lighter.

“Thank you?”  
I am genuinely surprised he thanked me, let alone actually listened. 

“Yeah. Thank you, comrade.”

“Also it’s degenerate and bad for your health. All those poisonous chemicals and the tar you’re breathing in.”  
  
“Since when did you think poisonous chemicals were bad comrade? Also, vhats up with you and your fussing? Like vhy? Vhat is going?”  
  
“I care about you.” I instantly regret telling him, the fear of him shrugging it off and crushing me. But it never comes.  
  
“I care about you too.” and he smiles at me.  
  
“Really?”  
  
“Mhm really.” and he wraps his arm around me, pulling me close. I rest my head on his sturdy shoulder and he does the same, resting his head against mine.  
  


We just stand there, looking out at the valley, his warm body pressed against mine.  
  
“Vant to head back comrade?”  
  
“Sure.” and before he removes his arm, he presses a kiss onto my forehead. My heart sings and I can’t help but smile. Finally, I’m getting the affection from him I always wanted, that I wanted when we were in the centricide house, that I wanted when he was dating the faggot. And the whole time I was too scared to ask for it but now I’ve got it. I can’t help but let a smile break out across my face, wider than the berth of the river Rhine. I allow myself this small shred of happiness and joy.  
  
He glances over at me.  
“Vhat are you smiling about, comrade?”  
  
“Doesn’t matter. Don’t worry about it.”  
And he just shrugs, gives me a small smile and then we both climb into the car.


	9. Camping with the family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go camping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up but Jibreel is Ba'athist. Poggers. I hope you like it. It's summer here so idc it is hot weather fic

It started just like every other camping trip I had been on. Well, that’s a lie. It was better than the average ‘camping’ trip I had been on. Better than trenches with the never-ending shelling, the fleas, the frostbite, the starvation. Instead, before me, is the car fully loaded with food, a good tent, sleeping bags and other luxuries like inflatable air mattresses. Joseph is fucking around with something inside of the car and Naz is loading his bags.

We quickly drive by Jibreel’s house and pick him up too and Joseph packs Jibreel’s belongings into our car. We let him come along so that Naz wouldn’t be lonely plus the campsite was pretty cheap.  
And maybe I’d be driving if I didn’t have massive bags under my eyes and exhaustion. Exhaustion that’s seeped into every single muscle and bone in my body. But that’s normal. And after an hour of the four-hour drive, I’m fast asleep against the window.

“Comrade.” I hear a voice say, resonating deep into my sleep.

“James.”

“Солнечник, we’re here. Wake up.” And I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder, shaking me awake.

“Huh?” and I quickly pull myself upright, groggy with sleep. I’m sitting in the passenger seat, the car parked on the campsite under a tree. And Naz and Jibreel have already started fucking around with the tent.

And from there I start to help set up the tent. It’s spread out on the grass, perhaps in the morning it would have been dewy but now the midday sun is shining down on us with full force. And Joseph just stands there with the instruction manual.

“Uh comrade vhat do ve do vith that?” he says, pointing at pole Naz is holding. He’s just fucking around and following Joseph’s instructions, a beaming smile on his face.

“I thought you had the instructions.”

“Yeah, I do.” And he waves them.” but my English is too shit to understand this section. I am tired. I cannot read comrade.”

I shoot him a glare.

“Don’t swear in front of the kids.” and walk over to him.

“He already svears all the time.”

“Yeah.” chimes in Naz.

“And who’s fault is that?” I say but with no malice in my fault, I’m just smiling and squinting in the bright sunlight. “Also, Jibreel doesn’t swear yet. His mother will kill me if she finds out.”

“Yeah, that’s because he swears in Arabic and you don’t notice. Swearing isn’t bad.”

I sigh and just decide to drop it. We have shit to get done anyway and I have no time for arguments which get nowhere and achieve nothing.

He hands me the instruction manual and I read it, with him peering over my shoulder. And from there on we do fine. I read and the other three assemble the thing. And together we get it done.

It’s a tent with essentially two rooms, a small one at the back for Naz and Jibreel. And a slightly larger one for me and Joseph and we can just fit the air mattress since I refuse to sleep on the ground anymore. The tent sits on a gentle incline among other tents in the camping ground, next to a large oak tree. We nearly put it under the tree but the last thing we need is branches dropping on us or excessive leaves. And even better is that at the end of the slope, which goes for another hundred metres is a large stream. Or perhaps a small river. I really don’t know the difference. It’s a lovely river, clean crisp and sparkling water reflecting in the sunlight. And it gurgles downstream to the beach, just a five minute walk away.

I step into the river. I feel the disgusting slime between my feet, the slime on the rocks and the pebbles. I feel the cold of the water, all water up to my waist. I hate it but I grit my teeth. I hate the slime and I hate the cold but at the same time, it’s crisp and fresh as the sun burns down.

Naz and Jibreel are just messing around in the water having the time of their life but I’m uncomfortable. I glance at Joseph. He’s sitting on the grass at the banks of the river, tucked away somewhere in the shade of a tree.

He looks up at me when he notices I sat down next to him on the grass. He doesn’t say anything, he just gives me a soft fond smile but I don’t think there is much to be said. Over time we start to drift closer until I put my head on his shoulder, glancing over at the book, all of the text in Cyrillic.

“Comrade doesn’t get your vet hair all over my clothes,” he says, ruffling my hair with one hand.

“Shut up faggot.”

And with that, I turn my body a bit and wrap my arms around him, side on and do anything but remove my head. He sighs exasperatedly, but he’s smiling and soon he wraps his arm around me too.

“Hey James, do you know vhere the kids are?” asks Joseph, wandering into the tent. I check my watch. It’s 8 am and a brand new day. I’m still in my sleeping bag. I’m not fucking getting up. It’s warm and I’m sleepy.

“No? I thought you had seen them.”

“Uh, vell I haven’t seen them all morning. No fucking clue vhere they are but they’re probably fine.” he says as if its no big deal.

I quickly drag myself out of bed, my brain’s limited processes igniting. I quickly pull on a shirt, akward length khaki shorts, and my boots before marching out of the tent. They had probably snuck out at night and my brain is going 50kmp/h. Every single scenario, every single place, every single situation flashes through my mind. What if they had gotten lost? What if they had gotten hurt? What if they had gone swimming and-

I stop that train of thought. I don’t want to fucking think about it. I check all the obvious places. The river. The communal kitchens. But they’re nowhere to be seen. It’s like they’ve vanished into thin air. I check the car and they’re not fucking there before jogging back to Joseph. He’s just packing away cutlery, completely unaffected while I can feel my anxiety taking over, swallowing me whole. With my heart and breathing, hammering away in my chest and fucking up my lungs.

He looks up at me.

“Have you found them?”

“No. I looked everywhere. I looked in the car, in the kitchens, I checked the bathrooms quickly, the river, every single fucking corner of this fucking campsite. What if someone fucking kidnapped them or Naz broke his leg or they got lost in the woods.” I say, panting.

Joseph places whatever he was holding onto the ground and stands up. His arms wrap around me.

“They vill be alright. They are probably just vacking each other with sticks or something.”

“I know. I know.” I say, the volume rising as the feeling in my body gets worse.

“Ve can go find them. Maybe they vent to the beach.”

I don’t say anything. My brain just short circuits, triggering everything I’ve suppressed since the last time I’ve had a good cry. Tears start welling up in the corner of my eyes and Tankie quickly picks up on it, holding me even tighter. My bitten ugly nails dig into his jacket, like stubby claws. But I can’t cry. I can’t fucking cry. And I manage to suppress it again.

“We are going to get those fucking kids,” I say through clenched teeth.

He quickly pats my back and we set off. We exit the campsite, follow the short road, the tarmac sticky in the sun. And after a five-minute walk, through that and the pine trees, we’re standing on the dunes looking down. In front of us is the blue ocean, waves breaking hypnotically, crashing onto the white sand and then sucking back like a feral animal.

“It’s very beautiful, isn’t it comrade?”

“Yes but now’s not the fucking time to admire the scenery.”

“True right.” And together we jog down the dunes onto the beach. Tankie starts jogging down the beach, heading east towards two brightly coloured blobs on the sand. As we draw closer, we quickly realise it’s Naz and Jibreel, sleeping on the sand in sleeping bags. Tankie walks over to them, peering over them. They’re fast asleep.

He sits up, shaking the sand out of his hair like a dog.

“Hi, papi.”

“What the fuck. You guys can’t just run away. I was so fucking wor-“ I start up, gesticulating wildly like I’m Mussolini but Joseph grabs my arm and pulls me to the side.

“They are alright. Do not vorry comrade. They vere safe. Did not do anything dumb. They are good kids and ve both know that.” he says, while I’m just breathing erratically.

And I know rationally that my brain is just spiralling. It does it all the time. The moment I get scared I’m going to lose someone, it goes insane and into this vortex of panicked sobs and frantic journaling where I desperately scribble pages upon pages about how I should save my friendship or my relationships or whatever the fuck. And it all turns out fine. And I know all it's erratic and irrational, but it never stops it from happening. Facts over fucking feeling but I can’t even control my own fucking mind. I hate my brain for it so much. I feel those tears I tried to suppress earlier welling up, turning around to face away from the kids so they can’t see it. So, they can’t see the weakness. But luckily, I manage to suppress them again. And together, we all head back to the campsite.

I return to the beach with Joseph at dusk, he wanted a walk and I needed some peace and quiet. And that’s just what we do, we walk across the beach as the sun starts to slowly slip under. Him just where the waves wash up onto the sand and the strong pull tugs at your ankles when the wave goes out. But I just walk in my boots. They’re long enough and waterproof, so it’s okay. And after half an hour, we end up sitting on the sand. Just below the high tide mark.

The beach is completely empty, so I wrap an arm around him while he just watches the waves and the beautiful sun setting. And he, in turn, wraps his arm around me. And something in my body, somewhere deep in the wiring of my brain tells me it’s okay. And that’s when I start crying. He doesn’t say anything, but he wraps his other arm around me too, pulling me closer. And I just cry like a little faggot bitch.

And so, ran Joseph's fingers through my hair as the rain patters onto the roof of the tent. The gentle pitter-patter suffocating any other thoughts. Suffocating the anxiety constantly lingering in the back of my mind. And I can feel the pull of sleep, dragging me to the edge and hopefully under. It’s just something about the combination of the meds, the soothing noise and his fingers, brushing out any tangles.

And soon he whispers something. I don’t catch what he’s saying but I get the jist of it. Before he was sitting up but now, he settles down on the air mattress next to me. A solitary arm wraps around me and my sleeping bag. And he gets comfy.

“Schatz, do you think the tent will flood tonight?” I say quietly.

“Ve’ll be fine.” and he gives me a soft kiss on the cheek, his lips lingering.

“I’m so glad we found Naz.”

“I said he was going to be fine.” he says, soothingly. If he had said it any other way, I would have taken offence.

I just sigh.  
“Yeah, you were right.”

“You vere just trying to be a good parent.”

"Sometimes I feel like I'm trying to overcompensate for how my parents were."

"And a lot of anxiety I assume comrade?"

I mumble something incoherent in agreement. I do feel stupid and guilty for freaking out, essentially overreacting.

“I understand. But you do need to give him a bit of space comrade. He is no longer small.”

“Yeah. Don’t worry Joseph. I know.”

“I know you know. Vell good night comrade. You are nothing like your father.” he says as he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “You are a very good man and father and I love you a lot. Even though you are a bit racist.”

“I’m not racist.” I protest. And he quickly shushes me, glancing over at Naz and Jibreel's end of the tent where they're asleep.

“I have a black friend.” I continue quieter. “He’s called Black Nationalist or something like that. I’m even a black nationalist of myself. I think we should give black people a homeland of their own. Far far away.”

“That is exactly what a racist would say.” He says, amused.

“Asshole.” I hiss back at him but with zero malice.

“Plus you’d need genocide to make an ethnostate comrade.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“Right right comrade. You are best genocide denier.” He says.

“I will stop denying genocides when they stop making up genocides.”

“Mhm,” he says, sceptically.

“Yes, you Slavic moron.”

He just chuckles and then kisses me and together, we let sleep claim us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this turned out good. I’ve just been writing loads of essays in the mean time and shit. I also wrote some other authunity stuff if you’re interested. https://archiveofourown.org/works/26865829/chapters/65549776
> 
> But pretty much, I sharted myself from jealousy. Because I was comparing my work to the work of others and it felt fucking awful since I felt like shit about my shit so I rewrote this because I want to write the damn best chapter I can write so I feel alright with myself which is why this exists and not the three drafts that I had earlier before I got hit with the bad self esteem lmao. And it sure isn't the best damn chapter I can write but its not bad.
> 
> Next chapter will probably be from Naz’s perspective and him just chilling with jibreel since we need some positivity and stuff good happy shit yk
> 
> And then I actually only completed this because I was fucking seething and coping on twitter (in a light hearted way) over the new centricide and ansynd coming back. It was pretty bad and I coped and seethed so hard that Nick Land broke the mutual which I also ended up coping and seething about but I digress: I hope you enjoyed it.


	11. A family christmas

I watch Naz quietly pick at his rotkraut and I relate. I don’t understand half of this weird german stuff but it’s better then what we ate in Stalingrad or during the trenches. Also, it doesn’t taste bad, just different. So I don't complain.

James carefully places his fork and knife down carefully, before clearing his throat. The clinking of cutlery stops as we turn to look at him.

“So, since it's nearly Christmas, I think we should celebrate it,” he says, his enthusiasm evident.

“Oh god. This is not going to be good.” groans Naz.

“James I thought you vere against religion. Opiate of the masses and vhatnot.”

“I said nothing about the opiate of the masses. Christianity is a symptom of decline: weakness, feminity and humility. We have to maintain our old traditions but extract and throw away the Christianity. We can just say it’s Woden instead of Christkind or something.”

I just sigh.  
“Ve can just hold a party on New Years.”

“No, no, no we should do it at Christmas. I have a present I thought of weeks ago.” interjects Naz.

“Christmas is a capitalist consumer holiday comrade. Ve should not indulge in that.”

“Please, dad? You know vati doesn’t do consumerism either, don’t worry this won’t be capitalist bullshit.”

“Sure vhatever. Vhatever makes you all happy.” and I give them all a smile which they return.

  
  


A week later, we drag the old decorations and the plastic tree out from the attic. But not all of them, as Ancap used to splurge on Christmas. He used to smother the house in expensive Christmas lights, with decadent trees and piles of presents. But always for himself.

But for the first time, I’m grateful for his greed and decadence. Though admittedly, they’re all painfully American decorations. There are no straw stars that James was fussing about or wooden gingerbread things. But we make do and together, with James pedantically micromanaging, we decorate the tree. His hands gently guiding mine when I put the bauble or whatever in place and soft smiles from him. And Naz is smiling too, fucking around and having a great time pissing off James, but with no bad intentions. It’s all for fun.

And that when I notice what Naz is up to. James has disappeared somewhere, probably phoning all his relatives but I find Naz in the kitchen. It’s a fucking mess. Flour is everywhere, on the countertop, on Naz’s ushanka but he just turns around when he notices me, grinning.

“Vhat are you doing comrade?”

“Uh. I’m baking. Making muffins for vati since he always makes me muffins. And I just want to return the favour.”

I just nod and smile.  
“Very nice comrade. Just remember to clean up aftervards.”

“Yeah, yeah, now get out.”

  
  


And I leave, spending the rest of the day laying on the sofa with a book in my lap and Christmas carols blaring. I start to doze off, my stomach filled with good food and a book I’ve read many times over. And soon I doze off into a deep slumber.

But I snap out of it. The first thing I hear is the blaring fire alarm. And then I smell it. The smell of smoke. And it clicks in my mind.

Fire.

I spring up. I also hear Nazi’s footsteps thundering down the stairs. We both make it into the kitchen at the same time, him wisely grabbing the fire extinguisher on the way there.

By the time he puts the fire out, the inside of the oven is gutted. Naz is looking at us apologetically, on the verge of tears and all that’s running through my mind is the insurance. I don't even know how he did it. Food burning is normal but not an actual fire.

“Dad I’m so sorry.” and he starts to sob.

And Nazi interrupts before I can say anything. “Naz, we’re going to get the insurance to cover it. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” he says, even though he’s clearly worrying and it’s clearly not okay.

“I just wanted to make muffins for vati, as a thank you. And now we can’t even cook dinner.”

“No, we’re going to sort this shit out. Tankie, you call the insurance and I'm going to arrange dinner.” and he marches into the living room, lifts the phone of the receiver, jams it between his head and shoulder and starts to rummage through the address book.

I just wrap Naz into a hug. While Nazi starts trying to organise a dinner.

A while later, after Nazi had called every number, even the numbers of people he didn’t like. We finally found something. Posadist. Xe had told him on the phone that xe cooked for four people, xem and three other communists which for some reason had cancelled last minute. And so, we make the drive to xir bunker, nestled in pine trees and hidden underground.

I lead them all in the dark to the bunker’s door, lit with my phone. It’s a 100 metres of a worn-down path, snaking through pine trees. And it’s genuinely beautiful, not a single bit of light permeates the pines. Until we come to the old door which we pry open. Nazi doesn’t say anything but his mouth is pressed in a straight line like he doesn’t want to be here.

And from there on, a concrete tunnel leads steeply into the ground, a warm light at its end and carols bouncing and echoing up the tunnel to where we stand.

And soon we make it to the bottom. Posadist’s usually miserable lounge, with its solitary bookshelf and sofa, is decorated in Christmas lights. In the corner sits a slightly battered Christmas tree, probably picked up from the ground outside and lugged in but it smells heavenly. And Posadist is just grooving and vibing.

Xe greets us all with a grin and a big hug.  
“Haha welcome to my bunker. I heard about the fire. Shame it wasn’t nuclear hellfire but I’m glad you’re here.”

“Thank you. Yeah I fucked up a bit” says Naz, lightheartedly even though I know he’s still probably feeling extremely guilty.

And around Posadist’s little table, we tuck into a great meal. It’s not really anything I’d usually eat since it’s goat meat, but that and the salads are still really good. Naz and Posadist start rambling about wacky stuff together, I have a good conversation about Trotsky which doesn’t devolve into an argument and even Nazi manages to lighten up a bit, small smiles and little jokes.

It’s almost a struggle to drag Naz out of the bunker when it’s time to go, him having flipped through every book in Posadist’s shelf and inspected the tiny glass dolphin ornaments hanging on the tree.

And just before we’re about to leave, Nazi says something.  
“I think next time, you should come around. Even if you are a degenerate communist.”

Posadist just laughs xir characteristic laugh, unnerving but uniquely xirs.  
“Thank you comrade. It gets a bit lonely out.” and offers a hug to Nazi which he graciously accepts, smiling the whole way through.  
  


When Naz goes to bed, I bring out the vodka. For some reason, a bottle is missing but I don't think much about it. And Nazi doesn’t complain about the booze, his spirits high and his energy gone. But he walks to the CD player, grabs his favourite Italian opera and replaces the Christmas carols with it. 

We sit down on the sofa and I pour us both a shot. We both down our shots with hesitation. And then we just sit there, in peaceful company. We’re both tired and neither of us speaks.

I stand up and walk to the empty space in front of the Christmas tree. All the lights in the room have been turned off apart from those on the tree, lighting the room with a warm glow.

“Comrade, do you vant to join me?” 

“What?” and he looks up at me.

“Do you vant to dance with me.”

“Alright.” 

He stands up and walks towards me. I wrap my arm around him, my hand on the small of his back and he leans into me. Together we stand there, one of our hands clasped with the others like we’re ballroom dancing. Together we just sway to the Italian, not moving from our spot.

And something snaps and tears start trickling down my cheeks and onto my neck. Every single emotion I had tried to suppress, everything I had tried hidden so that I look calm and strong bubbles to the surface, the tears welling out of my eyes. I press my face into the crook of his neck. He smells like clean laundry and soap. I hope he doesn’t mind.

I feel his hand leave mine and he starts to awkwardly pat my back. And after a while he just gives up and holds me.

“Jospeh what’s wrong?” he asks quietly.

“I don’t know man.”

"You should really talk about it, but it's okay if you don't want to." he says softly.

I don’t know what I feel. I am two parts happy and two parts destroyed. Overwhelmed with every damn thing I had suppressed, the stress from centricide, all of the pain. And the fucking oven. Every single thing I’ve had to suppress so I can keep just chugging along like a well oiled machine. But also happy. Happy that for the first time in a long time I haven't been abandoned. 

Everyone had left me. Ancom, Nazi and even Ancap. But here I was with Nazi, in a long term relationship, with a kid. A family and it’s all going well. This time I didn’t fucking sabotage it all or get it all possessive. And I don’t know how I did it. But I did it. I actually did it.

So I just kiss him. It’s a wet kiss, everything is wet. My face. My eyes. And I just kiss him again. He’s smiling at me, a dopey soft smile like he read my mind. Like we both know how fucking lucky we got and how good everything is. Even if the oven is destroyed.

"Comrade, you know I love you?"

"Yes I know you Slavic bastard, I love you too."

The next kiss I give him is less chaste. And he kisses me back eagerly. It all eventually accumulates into him whining and breathing heavily into my ear, one of my hands down his pants. He gives me another kiss and then giggles.

“I think we should head to bed.”

And we do. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this turned out alright, happy holidays :)))


End file.
